He turns to me, and sits on the floor with his arms around his knees, reminding me so much of the little boy that used to hide under the bed.
“You really don’t get it, Kill. Maybe neither of you do. You want me to talk so fucking badly? I’ll tell you, even if it’s not what you want to hear.”
He takes in a shaky breath and releases it slowly, as he digs his fingers into his forearms. Raising his head, he looks at me with a pained expression.
“This woman you hate so much saved my fucking life. Three days before I saw her for the first time, I had everything planned out. I had already told you both that I was going to the woods for a few days, knowing you wouldn’t question it since I’ve done that many times before. I wanted to make sure you didn’t interrupt me ending my life. And I didn’t want you to find my body like we did with mom. I didn’t want to put you through that twice. I had the location chosen. My gun was loaded, but then I saw her. She was angry, like me. She was hurt like me. For the first time in my entire life, I found a reason to breathe. I watched her take control of her trauma and punish the people responsible for it. I wanted to live to see her thrive. Without her, I wouldn’t be here. Heather saved me.”
I swallow hard, and exchange a look with Knox, both of us undoubtedly thinking the same fucking thing. We almost lost Carter again. The woman I’ve been trying to get rid of for weeks is the one person that stopped him from killing himself. And she didn’t do a damn thing, but exist.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He shrugs his shoulders and says, “There’s a lot you don’t know, because I can’t talk about it, but I’ll tell you this much. When she looks at me, every time I’m inside her, the way she says my name, that’s the only time the pain fades for even a minute.”
Knox looks at him and says, “She can’t touch you. That can never happen again.”
A tear rolls down Carter's cheek as he takes a deep breath and repeats Knox’s order, “She can’t touch me. That can never happen again.”
Carter lifts his hand and swipes the tears away, appearing angry with himself.
“Is she ever going to forgive me?”
Since I wasn’t there, and didn’t see it happen, I nod to Knox for him to respond.
“Carter, I’m not going to sugar-coat it. She was hurt, but I don’t think she sees it as something you need forgiveness for. This wasn’t something you did to be malicious, and Heather knows that. I’ve watched both of you, and she’s just as in love with you as you are with her. You both need a little time and open, honest communication.”
It’s heartbreaking, watching him like this and having the same questions he does. Why can’t he heal? Carter has never been officially diagnosed with anything, because he refuses the diagnostic testing, but the doctors thought he likely had OCD, ADHD, PTSD, and Haphephobia. Each condition has treatment available, but it all starts with him talking about what happened to him. The fact that he’s refusing to has resulted in him being left untreated.
“Are you suicidal, Carter?”
He shakes his head.
“As long as I have her, no. But I don’t want to live without her. I can’t live without her.”
Jesus Christ. Now I want to pull my hair out. In my experience, relationships don’t last forever. So now I’ll sit here and what? Wait for my brother to commit suicide? I would do anything to protect my brother, but how in the hell can I protect him from himself?
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
THE HEATHEN
Isit in the lounge, knowing the guys are in Carter’s bedroom with him. I’m waiting to see if Knox’s reassurance about Carter’s feelings were right, or if now everything will unravel right before my eyes.
A text alert comes through on my phone, and I open it without hesitation assuming it’s Knox, but the unknown number on the screen takes me by surprise.
Unknown Number:I’m old. Let’s finish this. I’m tired of hiding.
I sigh audibly to myself. A long breath of relief. It’s finally going to end.
Me:Where are you?
Unknown Number:At our home you forced us to destroy.
I don’t bother arguing because it doesn’t matter. He can think what he wants. This ends now.
I scrawl out a quick note to my men, then go to the liquor shelf and grab the gun hidden behind it, just in case. I tuck it into the back of my pants and stare at the camera for a long moment. This could be a trap. It probably is, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
I open the door, and the alarm sounds, like I knew it would. I hear the scrambling of feet, along with panicked words, but I don’t wait. I can’t.
I walk fast, but don’t run, because I want to conserve my energy for what I’m sure will be a fight. If he is even there.
